Moon Prayer poems: Ending & Beginning

So the cycle circles round
endings unfold into beginnings.

You've reached a quiet marker on the roadside,
a threshold,
the road yet stretching ahead of you
parts seen and known, parts yet to be revealed
the sweet gift and challenge of walking in this world.

Time to savor the moment
before picking up your walking stick
and continuing on your way
into the life that awaits you.

Blessings.
Goodness.
Joy.

The Moon of Tevet

You stand at a powerful threshold,
parts of self dying and parts about to be freshly born,
and call upon the name of God,
HaRachaman

HaRachman, You Who delivered me into life,
You Who travels alongside me,
I stand with You now, all my candles aflame.
We stand together, a pillar of fire, burning in the darkness of the night,
in this moon of endings and beginnings.

HaRachaman, You Who tend me lovingly,
You Who catch me when I fall and Who helps me rise up again,
in this moon when I know light is returning, but I can't yet see it's traces,
in this moon where night yet reigns, I tread a walk of faith,
my eyes open, my arms extended,
the journey of life itself.

HaRahaman, You Who hold me close,
You Who rallies by my side, Who guides me to safety,
I enter this moon of water, when earth and sky meet in embrace
when the rains come down deeply drenching the Land,
soaking the seeds, washing the trees roots, refilling the wadis,
the caverns overflowing once again with song.

I descend into the soft darkness of Tevet, and let her teachings and magic
play upon my soul, shaping it, wet mud from the rains,
stuff of life, messy, rich with lives gone by,
decaying plant leaves and small white animal bones slip together
creating clay from which to sculpt my life anew.

HaRachaman, You Who watch out for me,
You Who want me to be all that I can be,
in this moon of Tevet there is quiet space with room enough,
space and quiet enough, deep and full enough, to hold all of who I am,
the parts seen, as well as those trying to reveal themselves.
This my soul needs,
just as the cisterns which now fill up again with heavy rains,
relief of water filling up, filling up, filling up again my dry places.
So may I emerge from this moon of night, from the depths,
with new life.

Kindle all my flames, free me from the shadows,
that I might offer up my abundance,
that I might adorn Your world with radiance.

Be with me HaRachaman and aid me.
You Who walk beside me in my days,
You Who protect me in my nights,
HaRachaman.

The Moon of Kislev

Your soul yearns for tending
in this time of deepest night, and
calls upon the name of God,
Ha'G'vurah

HaG'vurah, You Who sculpts the caves deep within the earth,
Who soothes the ocean's waters,
You come to me in this Moon of Kislev
to teach me of true power.

Kislev nestles on the edge of winter, month in the Land where
rains sweep across the face of the earth,
thistles softly green wave in the wind, and
harvests of oranges blend with
stories of courage and miracles, fear and wonders.

HaG'vurah, You Who sprinkles the stars throughout the heavens,
Who holds the planets in place,
You teach me of the many forms of strength.
Strength of muscle and of voice, strength of coppers and of spirit,
strength of action and of stillness, strength of struggle and of release,
strength of laughter and strength of tears, strength in daily living, and
moment to moment choosing life.

HaG'vurah, You Who spreads the sun's rays each morning
Who paints the clouds with light,
You instruct me of the many forms of might.
Might of position and of person, might of gold and of presence,
might of speaking and of listening, might of confidence and of humility,
might of compassion and of companioning, might in daily living, and
moment to moment walking with faith.

HaG'vurah,
help me to stand with You.
Renew my energies
that I might join You,
to assist those who are failing and protect those who are fragile,
to support those who are weary and defend those who are vulnerable,
to lift those who have fallen and shield those who have become weakened
through the rounds and turns of life.

HaG'vurah,
grant me continued vigor.
Refortify me,
that I might continue to find my power and
to use it once uncovered
with wisdom.

In this Moon of Kislev,
gird me,
You Who are my strength and shield,
HaG'vurah

The Moon of Cheshvan

You can feel the earth's changes, the tide of night rising around you.
And so you call upon the name of God
HaMakom
your place, your haven,
in this time of transformation.

HaMakom, in this moon of Cheshvan
You teach me to learn from the trees.
They rise in radiant splendor,
their rich reds, deep clarets and brilliant golds gleaming on the hillsides,
showing me the way to walk in this world,
with quiet dignity, colors aflame, soul shining in beauty,
gently releasing that which is no longer needed
so as to stand more lightly in this world.

Cheshvan arrives, season of sowing in the Land.
Barley and wheat are tucked into earth's bed to sleep and rise in the spring.
You teach me now is the time to plant seeds, which in order to sprout
requires exposure to cool air and deep rest.
So too do I need travel through my chilled spells, my times of darkness,
that I might rise in my season, gifting
nourishment to this world.

In Cheshvan in the Land, storks and cranes on route to the south
take respite in the fields, blanketing them in white.
So you show me that cycles ever keep turning,
to watch for the gifts which periodically descend,
the storks, harbingers,
of promise yet to come.

In Cheshvan the farmers gently lay the newly plucked olives
into their garlicky brine, that they might in quiet
turn to luscious morsels.
After reviewing my harvest, cleansing my spirit,
living in the elements and dancing in joy,
I too now eagerly enter into the tantalizing invitation of the velvety quiet,
to absorb, reflect, shift shape,
rest my soles.

For just as the earth wraps herself in fallen leaves and composting flowers,
in pine needles and fugitive nuts, tree's cast off clothing,
lying down to rest,
so too do I need pause and tuck myself inwards,
relearning that my native resources lie within my own soil
which in season needs enriching, replenishing,
and restoration.

HaMakom, You Who guide me to my place,
You in Whom my place lies,
succor me during this season of frost.
Grant me warm shelter as I turn to You
as I return to myself,
HaMakom.

A Prayer for Elul: Waters of Humility

Imagine sitting in a wild place
on a hillside overlooking glaciers,
or in the sand besides the ocean.
Remember that feeling
of being one small creature in a large and ancient universe.

From this place
your soul calls upon the name of God
HaTzur
my Rock, my Mooring,
my anchor.


HaTzur, give me the strength
to hand myself to You, to let myself rest in Your arms.
Help me remember
I cannot shape it all,
that there is a point when I need to let go,
so that there might be room for new possibilities.

Let humility well up like a stream and fill my soul.
Grant me rest that I might listen to its music.

HaTzur, grace me with the courage
to yield to You,
to let myself recline beneath Your wings.
Help me wipe away having to have the answers,
that there might be room for new ways of seeing.

Let humility well up like a stream that I might drink from it.
Gift me tranquility that I might rise up re-centered.

HaTzur, gift me with the wisdom
to learn from You
to let myself be still within Your Presence.
Help me unfurl my clenched hand and take Yours in mine
that we might walk together.

And HaTzur, let humility well up
like a stream.
Help me to turn
and to return.

The Moon of Elul

Your soul, seasoned by the heat of summer, burnished from the flames,
grows ever more golden.
You are growing like the fruits hanging in the trees,
becoming more flavorful with each passing day.

You can feel the slight shift in the light now, feel the change in the air.
The chant of the Song of Songs runs through your body,
"I am my Beloveds and my Beloved is mine."

You feel a longing to reflect.
You know you need review your life before
you can step freely into your harvest time.

And so you begin,
your soul calling upon the name of God
HaTzur,
Your Stronghold,
One Who is solidly present, with you,
for you.


HaTzur, my Rock, my strength,
aid me as I walk within and enter into the tasks of Elul.

The month of Elul
awakens each dawn with the voice of the Ram's horn, and
rouses each midnight to the music of prayer.
She bears scent of wild rose and sound of the departing wings
of turtle doves.

The month of Elul,
time of readying, time of shaping understanding,
time of picking ripe figs.

Elul holds newly born autumn fog and freshly woven dew.
She shoos scent of carob and tamarisk blooms into the evening breeze.
In her reign the last remnants of summer heat swell, and
hot desert winds scatter shards
of thistles, grasses, and vegetable seeds wildly into the air.

Elul instructs me
that the pieces that have dried out within me bear kernels of future possibilities,
that when parched, rains of restoration follow.

Elul bids me learn from the earth
who moves gracefully into her season of ripening,
who readies for her winter.
And she bids me to follow in her wake.

Elul enjoins me to forgive,
for she, wizened with age, knows that accounts unsettled act
like the small tear in a sack of flour
from which a steady stream of wheat pours
surreptitiously,
until the sack lies depleted.
Thus do un-forgiven deeds and words
drain and alter my form.

Elul calls me to seek forgiveness
from those whom I have wounded
wittingly and unwittingly, by language and by actions.
She bids me
to ask forgiveness and
to grant forgiveness.

Elul calls me to seek forgiveness
from myself whom I have wounded,
wittingly and unwittingly, by language and by actions.
She bids me look at myself
and to ask forgiveness and
to grant forgiveness.

She bids me loosen jaws which clench,
open the closed recesses within,
scour that which has solidified, staining the inner parts of my being.
She bids me wash myself clean,
that I might be fresh again,
that I might shine again,
that I might stand restored,
pure as first made.

HaTzur, my refuge,
One Whom I turn to on my way,
support me as I walk this path, for the way is most arduous.
I lie exposed, open like a freshly cut fig,
raw, naked, succulent.

I face harsh words and mottled histories,
tortured sculptures of intentions that missed the mark,
overgrown gardens of desires that grew awry.

Help me embark upon Elul's task.
Help me cleanse, scrub away my shadows,
that I might pass through her, at end,
purified, renewed.
So that I might sing my songs more clearly,
so that I might shine more brightly.

Be with me as I walk forward HaTzur.
Grant me
courage and
fortitude.

The Moon of Av

Your soul, like the fruit,
is growing
on the tree of life.

And in this moon she calls on the name of God
HaRoeh
One Who guides through the wild places

HaRoeh,
You Who watch over me,
be with me as I enter this Moon of Av.

Av sits like a queen on her throne, surveying with deep satisfaction
the lushness of her reign,
fields hung with ripening grapes, tree boughs weighed with pregnant fruit,
skins splitting wide open, juice overflowing, birds and animals in rapture.

Summer heat enfolds the earth
blanketing me and the fields and the walkways
enveloping me, rocking me quickly to sleep in the mid-day heat,
the fragrance of the sand lily my last memory.

Av slows me down.
I go to the wayside and rest.

At the very same time, in the early days of this moon
Av holds deep sorrows.
Sadness wafts up from unknown places within me
of times and lands from long ago, their reflections lying
in the core of my body, in the center of my spirit,
in the way I hold my head.

She bids me grieve
wise one that she is, Av knows descent into the wells of mourning
stirs that within, the hidden remnants of the past.
She teaches me to honor that which breaks the heart,
to cherish the precious, release that which I cannot change,
that this I must do
that I might hear more clearly in the next moon
the call of the Ram's horn.

And as I sit upon the earth in darkened rooms, heart heavy,
through the windows comes
the bleating of new born lambs,
the perfume of plums and peaches
calling me to life
reminding me that life dances all around me, flow sparkling within me.
She instructs me
to celebrate the life I do bear as does she,
now.

HaRoeh, You Who follow me wherever I wander,
aid me enter the depths of summer
saunter with me through these heated days,
as I walk through the gardens of myself
of those who came before me, and
of that which can yet come into being.

HaRoeh, my Guardian,
come, travel closely,
steer me through this passage
from life to death and then to heightened life.
Faithful Shepherd,
HaRoeh.

The Moon of Iyar

The Moon of Iyar

Imagine your soul coming into blossom alongside the trees and flowers,
all shouting hymns to life.

Imagine the soft, gentle hands of light fondly stroking
the beds of th earth, the top of your head, the core of your heart.

Imagine your soul freed from slavery, wandering in the wide expanse of wilderness.
Your eyes trail on the vast spread of sky, the towering mountains all around you.
And your soul calls upon the name of God,
HaMakom
The Place you return to


HaMakom
in this Moon of Iyar, in the Land,
when the earth heats up toasting brown in the sun, and
feisty blue globed thistles bristle on the hillsides,
when golden staves of barley are harvested and restless sheep are sheared,
when amber streams of honey are scooped up and stored and
fruit tree blossoms emit heady fragrance both by day and night,
I go back,
back,
back
into the depths of the wilderness.

Long ago in this Moon I wandered the parched desert hills
a slave freshly redeemed,
body freed, my spirit yet imprisoned,
vicissitudes imprinted upon my soul.

And even now
it's as if my soul knows
this moon is the wandering time.
And she begins to drift, meander, become restless,
etched with memories
of long ago.

HaMakom
You Who are my place,
wherever I go I learn You are there.
Whenever I long for home, I learn it is in You.
You accompany my desert wanderings,
by my side,
through it all.

In Iyar, Moon of Light,
You offer me a space in which to rest.
In Iyar, Moon of Nurture,
You offer me a place in which I can recover from
the wizenings and hardships of life.
Each morning manna lies outside my tent.
My sandals do not become worn, nor do my clothes age.

Patient One Who adores me,
You wait for me to heal, wait for me to grow,
wait for me to learn that You are there and will not leave me,
to learn that You will not fetter me,
You will not abandon me, that
You wait from love of me.

Though I know I am free, my soul learns more slowly,
like light penetrating fog, this new born understanding takes time
to be felt, to be known,
to be claimed
to be joined with.

Freedom of body is the soil,
yet freedom to live in spirit, to shine as soul,
to carve out pathways of light in the world,
that is Your call, that Your invitation.

So in this Moon of Iyar I begin to seek You.
I learn to trust You.
I begin to see You as
Companion,
Beloved,
Friend.

So tenderly come near.
Sing me songs at dusk and aid me heal the torn parts of my spirit.
Walk patiently beside me as I ramble through stony, barren places,
spaces I must go,
letting old parts of myself, yet enslaved wither and shed,
fall away like husks now unneeded.

Embrace me in my night and lead me home to You
when I wander, lost.
Hold up the light of Iyar that I might be guided back to You
as my body releases its memories of slavery
into the velvet night's mists.

HaMakom
My place, The place
gather me in gently like a new born lamb.
Shelter me under Your wings.
Heal me, mend me, repair me, revive me
succor me, restore me.
HaMakom.

© 2008

The Moon of Nisan

The Moon of Nisan

Imagine your soul growing as is the light,
now in her young womanhood.
Your soul so eager for this new season
calls upon the name of God
HaGoel,
The One Who saves you, Who frees you
Who unlocks your gates.


HaGoel,
You Who let loose that which lies bound,
Spring is arriving.

The Negev sways in emerald green grasses.
The Golan shimmers with rainbows of wildflowers.
The songs of doves fill the air,
and the orchards blossom with flowers of apples, plums, and apricots.

And just as earth rises in a cacophony of music
so You call to me to join in the cosmic dance,
to emerge
to my native destiny.

Each year of my life
at this time in the Spring
I see how narrowed I have become.

Each year of my life
at this time in the Spring
I long for release from the narrow places of my own making.

Each year of my life
at this time in the Spring
my soul longs to
truly be free.

HaGoel
let me go
like a bird from her cage.
Let me fly out
from the places that hold me captive,
from all which confines me,
from that which imprisons my spirit.

HaGoal
help free me,
these forces do not timidly release.

Spread Your hand and guide me forth,
accompany me to my Red Sea,
make the waters part.

And may the narrowness that pursues me,
that seeks to capture me
and force my return,
perish,
be covered over and stilled,
by the red, red waters.

HaGoel
You Who save,
be my pillar of cloud by day, my pillar of fire by night.
Help my soul to emerge as radiant as the sun.

You Who are my deliverer,
just as the storks in Nisan
stop and rest in the fields on their flight to the north,
harbingers of birth,
so too may You midwife my soul yet again
into life.

You Who opens my way.
You Who my way opens.
HaGoel.
© 2008

The Moon of Adar I

The Moon of Adar I

As the earth wrestles, as weather and life turn tumultuous
your soul calls upon the name of God
HaRachaman
One Who loves from the depths


HaRachaman,
You Who brim full with love for me
You Who hold me tenderly
You Who are ever pregnant with possibilities and marvels and wisdoms,
You remind me
that living in a world solely of movement
unbalances me.

HaRachaman,
You Who care so passionately
You remind me this moon gently, firmly,
of how mundane living can
blind me
steal away my seasons
rob me of my sense of rhythm
and that now is the time
to realign.

HaRachaman
You Who Mother me each moment
You give me the gift of Adar I.

Adar I is commonly plain.
She appears without celebration or song.
She comes unadorned
and in her simplicity
she speaks to me.

To slow down,
to return to ways of living with spirit
that restore me.

To slow down, to remember
to sense the earth
to feel her soil beneath my feet,
her soft loam steadfastly nurturing life, sustaining my body.
You remind me
to see that the ground upon which I stand
is holy
containing sparks of aliveness.

To slow down, to remember
to sense my body
to feel the miracles lying within me
the soft winds blowing through my being
the golden light shimmering in my core
You remind me
to see my inner lands from which I move
as holy
containing sparks of beauty.

HaRachaman,
You Who love so deeply,
lovingly lead me back to myself.
Quietly remind me
of my need to sculpt space for my soul,
that I might sing my song once more
the song only I can sing,
HaRachaman.

© 2008

The Moon of Adar

The Moon of Adar

Imagine your spirit feeling sassier, no longer a child, yet not grown up,
rather in that middling time.

Imagine your soul, just like the season is transitioning.
Things are moving around deep inside yourself that you can feel
but you don't yet understand.
So too this Moon.

The clouds hover now. All seems veiled.
Hidden things rustle inside you, around you. Randomness whirls, stirring your soul.
Wildness, chaos, the winds of change sweep through your spirit
turning her upside down and inside out.

All the order you've patiently created, painstakingly cultivated, overturns.
And your soul sits in the middle of it gasping indignantly.
Yet, at the very same moment
a breath of joy slips through your being, illuminating you.
You feel an opening in your chest.

For room is being made for you to be in. For your real self. For your true spirit.
And your soul calls out to God
HaNistar
Hidden One
One Who conceals Self
Who walks beside you in unseen ways.



HaNistar,
Hidden One,
come and lead me through this Moon of Adar,
through this time of cloud and fantasy, struggle and whimsy,
where what appears to be real
is but a dream
and what seems dreamlike
carries seeds of truths.
Where winter yet strives to reign
while spring calls forth crocuses to bloom.

HaNistar,
You Who hide,
come and guide me through this moon.
Through this time where
just as my soul wearies from the darkness
You make signs of light appear.
Just as I think the night will never end,
You cause rainbows to shimmer
and the winds to whisper to me with Your voice,
"Keep walking my love
with your hands outstretched."

HaNistar,
You Who lie concealed,
You call to my inner one who loves to frolic
who holds cascades of laughter deep within the caverns of her belly.
You call to my wild one living in my bones
to awaken.

In Adar You invite me
to enter the world of illusion and fantasy
for my waif to deck herself in glistening golden queenly robes
and to enter the timeless story
of chance and fortune
and breathtaking turns
where life hangs on threads
where at the very last second
evil is thwarted
and the seemingly impossible
occurs.

You know,
Winter sombers the human spirit
and thus
along comes Adar
the impulsive roguish youth
brazen and feisty
challenging me
to unmask
to untie that which blocks my vision
to widen my horizons
to loosen that to which I firmly clutch
so that I might hear
springs
call.

HaNistar
You Who wait out of sight,
You call up from within me the young one
who loves to step on the ice's edge
crunching
crunching
aiding the transformation
of ice to water
of that which is rigid
to fluidity.

HaNistar
You Who are veiled
clothed in mysterious ways
help me find my way.
Aid me uncover my true course.

HaNistar
You Who are secreted away,
reveal my unseen wells
dissolve my internal winters
free my inner waters
that they might flow again
race and swirl again
foam and frolic and tumble.
Let laughter rise up within me
joy and elation
well up, spill out
and merge
with the spring rains.
Bearing me to new life.
Bearing new life to me.
© 2008

The Moons of the Year Introduction I

Welcome

May you find heart in these pages, if yours is fading,
restoration of soul, if yours is flagging.

May you know a rekindling of spirit, if yours is flickering lowly,
reviving of passion, if yours is burning dimly.

For your hands and heart, voice and imagings,
laughter and tears, courage and vision
has brought and brings much life and light to this Universe.

So stop a while and walk in the pathways of the Moon.
Drink from these ancient streams.
Dig into this soil.

For from these natural resources richness springs.

Blessings to you on your way.
© 2008

The Moon of Shvat

The Moon of Shvat

Come, sit in Winter's belly, rock in her primal seas, while she croons wisdoms to comfort
your soul in this time of low light.

For when the cold wind blows, when you are little and vulnerable,
your soul needs special care.

And every year of your life, at this Moon of Mid-Winter,
the little one lurks within and peeps out.
So your soul calls upon the name of God,
HaShomer
One Who watches out for you
One Who cares for you
for the welfare of your sweet, sweet, being.


HaShomer, You Who watch over me,
walk with me now in this moon of Shvat
at this time when the world around me sleeps,
when the blue of night, white of frost reign,
when gray winds and snow kissed rains sweep the earth's hearth,
and the creatures curled round in their lairs lie
deep in dream.

HaShomer, You Who look out for me,
You beckon to me this moon
to hear the silent coursing of life which flows through winter's veins,
to listen to how within the whistling winds, howling gales, and the silence of the snow
are songs You sing to hearten me
in this time where some life dies, some rests, some stirs within
awaiting to be born.

HaShomer, You Who tend me,
You teach me to have courage when all seems a frozen wasteland,
to stand in the face of trials, firmly planted,
to hearken to my soul's voice, You, echoing
as surely, as clearly, as powerfully within me
as the music of the winter winds.

HaShomer, You Who are my guardian,
let me be like the almond tree
who in the pitch of cold, in the seeming endlessness of winter
imperceptibly moves deeply within herself,
appearing to be between worlds, bearing no signs of life
yet within her, hidden, her sap does flow
her life force breathes, and she thrusts forth
despite the icy rains, sleet, and snow
which penetrate her skin, pour over her,
saturate her boughs,
and
flowers.

It is said this moon is her birthday,
she the first to bloom in the Land.
Her light pink petals open surely, shimmering translucently
in the winter rains.
In her name, Shakedyah, Yours is woven, teaching me
that You travel close by, watching for the wellbeing of my soul.
She stands, Your sign, that life indeed will return
even when all appears barren and lifeless.

Her flowers promise fruit to come
hard shell protecting potential to re-create,
symbol of mystery, possibility, she calls to me
that I too have within
a kernel filled with wild beauty
that links me to eternity.

HaShomer,
watch over me this moon of Shvat.
Help me to move from darkness to light,
from empty branch to blossom, from silence to song,
from sleep to awakening, from emptiness to abundance,
from solitude to Your embrace.

Bless me HaShomer, as I stand.
Root me in this world.
© 2008

Moons of the Year: Beginnings II

Beginnings

Imagine your soul being conceived in the Spring,
rooting in your mother's womb while
all Creation is shouting out, "I am coming into life!"

Imagine your spirit being carried deep inside nine months
emerging into the air of this wild wet universe
on the winter solstice
when the tide of light turns.
Some souls slipping away to the other side and
new souls coming forth.

Imagine that moment is when you symbolically entered life.

Imagine your soul, yet downy soft
new to this world
resting in the cocoon of beginnings
sleeping, eating,
each moment, growing.

And as your eyes begin to see
and you begin to explore this Creation,
you enter the doorway
of traveling through the Moons.

© 2008

The Moon of Sivan

The Moon of Sivan

Imagine your soul moving from the blooms of young womanhood into a new phase of growth
just as Springs abundant waves of blossoming now slows.

Imagine your spirit now able to open her arms with trust and power and grace
while calling upon the name of God
Yedid Nefesh
Beloved of Soul.


Yedid Nefesh,
You for Whom my soul longs,
Beloved One of my spirit,
come and dance with me this moon of Sivan.

Sivan,
time of the first ripe grapes in the Land, time of rising heat,
time when mountains once tumbling with green grasses now lie golden,
dry, dry, dry from the sun.

If I look very closely I can see the shadows on the hillsides
of pilgrims on route to Jerusalem
bearing baskets filled with their first fruits on their shoulders.
If I am very patient, I can see them
streaming across the valleys moving towards the Temple, even now,
if I look closely.

In the moon of Sivan, fish retreat to deeper waters,
showing me the way to go.

It is time to go to my deeper waters.
It is time to ready to meet You, One Whom my heart adores.

You delivered me from oppression, rescuing me from the whip.
You brought me to a wild place and tended me there soothingly
as the wounded creature I then was,
bringing me food, revealing wells, caring for me, nursing me back to life,
so in love with me, waiting, waiting patiently
for me to learn of You, gently, gently in my time.

And now, in this moon of Sivan, time of bringing offerings,
the golds of wheat and the pearls of barley,
plump black figs and lusty rosy pomegranates,
garlicky green olives and thick, thick brown dates oozing with honey
large, sensuous and juicy,
so too in this moon, I bring my ripened soul, grown wide and deep,
my lush soul, open and full from all the places I have traveled,
through slavery and wildness,
filled with love for You,
Who has cared for me so quietly.

And now, in this moon, I am ready.
I am now finally ready, longing to meet you.
I am now finally ready to travel to the wedding canopy,
to meet beneath its folds, to wed myself to You
from my deepest places.

And as the hollyhocks blossom and the spicy blooms of thyme scent the air
and thistles in blue flower shower the hillsides,
and songs of the turtledoves fill the sky,
I am joined in celebration
by all the creatures, by all the fruits of the earth,
by the opening of all the levels of my soul.
For it is the time of binding. It is the time of union.

So Yedid Nefesh, my heart's delight, Beloved of my soul
come and dance with me.
Come and dance with me
beneath this Sivan Moon.
© 2008